


Glassy Black Eyes

by mustbeginandendwithaletterornumber



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Demon!Stiles, Supernatural Crossover I Guess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 09:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mustbeginandendwithaletterornumber/pseuds/mustbeginandendwithaletterornumber
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deucalion summons a demon and uses Stiles as a vessel.<br/>Smart move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Glassy Black Eyes

Deucalion stands at the head of the room, lit by one single electric bulb that hangs down pathetically from its wiring. The floor is solid concrete and covered with dirt.  The walls, lined with metal shelves and stacked with various vats and boxes, all of varying ages. There are two large windows at either end, both blackened with grime.

Dankness hangs about the room like years of mould and rot. It crawls into the flesh of the remaining alphas and makes them fear.  Their faces are contorted with apprehension and acute distress. Though no one will admit it, something in their leader has changed.

He stands proud like before, back to the altar but a cruelness shapes his smile. Kali is not by his side. She stands with the boys, and all of them watch him like children, stunned by his words. He stares at them, his glasses throwing back at them distorted faces.

Water drips periodically from a leaking pipe and the sound is amplified by the crushing silence. The twin alphas fight their urge to grasp onto one another. Deucalion would reprimand them severely for such an act of weakness and both boys agree, they like being alive.

“So no one is going to say anything?”

Kali’s fingers twitch from his words, irritation gnaws at her skull and threatening the foundations that hold it together.

“This is madness.”

Deucalion smirks.

“And why is that, Kali?”

She inhales deeply, “You want to summon a demon.”

“Yes that is what I said.”

“Demons are not real, it is nonsense.”

“Don’t be so sure. Humans say we don’t exist, yet here we are.”

She scowls, “This is just wasting time.”

“Kali,” he turns back to the altar table and lifts a large leather book, “Do you have a reason to not trust me?”

She stiffens, “No.”

He turns to face them, “Good. Now Ethan would you fetch the boy?”

Without hesitation Ethan darts behind shelving where the light doesn’t reach. Aiden stands awkward while his brother disappears into the mass of metal and plastic. There’s the sound of something scraping across the floor, and then Ethan’s silhouette appears carrying a chair.

“Put him in the circle,” Deucalion commands.

The chair is set down in the centre of the Devil’s trap, Ethan steps widely over the line of salt that surrounds the trap. Once past he is still overly cautious to not damage any of the other lines. He pauses, staring down at their captive and slowly looks up at Deucalion.

“Won’t Scott come looking for him?”

“Of course. We’re hoping that they’ll have an _interesting_ reunion.”

Ethan returns to his brother’s side. Neither of them can take their eyes off Stiles. He sits with his head lolled forward, a bruise under his left eye and his limbs bound to the chair. His over-shirt is torn on one side, ripped across from the hem to the buttons.

Then his head jerks to one side and he lets out a long groan. Both of them tense, their hands slip into fists.

“Kali, I want you to read the summoning spell.”

She grimaces but obliges. Silence hits the room like a hammer and every eye is on her as she takes the tome from Deucalion; his eyeless stare seems to penetrate and dig into her back.

The book is already opened to the bookmarked pages, which she places on the altar. The seven candles stand unlit in the lines of chalk, with the bowl of mixed herbs beside. It stinks with a black potency that makes her stomach turn.

She removes a match and begins to light the seven candles. As each candle is lit the room grows colder, until their breath can be faintly seen, coiling out of their mouths.

Her eyes drop down to the book, reading the messy handwritten words. With her right index finger she slices open her palm. The words stumble out of her mouth, unfamiliar.

“Et ad congregandum, eos coram me.”

While she speaks her blood dribbles into the bowl of herbs, adding to the stench. Aiden and Ethan glance at each other, then at Stiles who groans again. As they look back to Kali she flings a match into the herbs, which is engulfed in a tongue of fire.

Water continues to drip; no one moves. A mouse skitters across the floor and knocks something down. She looks at Deucalion, who is now staring at Stiles. The light flickers fast, struggling to hold connection.

Kali shuts the book, and his head twitches and he lets out a moan. It’s a deep satisfied sound, followed by a pleasured sigh. 

“Finally. I’m out of that Godforsaken shit hole.”

Stiles’s head rolls up onto his shoulders. He glances about himself, taking in every detail of his surroundings. His eyes fall on the twins. Both wear a confused look which riles a wicked smile to his lips. Then he blinks, and for a moment his eyes turn black like onyx stone.

Aiden gasps and slaps his brother on the arm, whose response is to gape in shock. Instinctively Kali’s fangs drop and her fingers curl.

“You owe that thanks to us,” Deucalion says while reaching for Kali. Without a word she leads him to face the boy in the chair. His brown eyes follow them, a curious look plastered to his face.

“So you must be the head of the hostage operation.”

Deucalion smiles, “You have me all wrong; I freed you.”

“Thing is, you and me, we clearly have different ideas of what “freed” means,” he says indicating at the Devil’s trap.

“In a situation like this precaution is important. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“In a situation like this you lot tend to fear me rather than sass me. Now can we cut the bullshit?”

The smile falls from Deucalion’s face, “We need you to kill someone.”

Stiles snorts, “Original.”

“He’s a werewolf named Scott McCall. Not one of ours, so it should be no problem for you.”

“It’ll be a slice of cake.”

The smug grin on his face is unnerving.

“Aiden, do the honours of releasing our new friend here.”

Hesitantly Aiden wipes away part of the salt line and begins to chip away at the paint with his claw. While he works the two glassy eyes fix on him. Their stare burns his skin red raw.

As he peels off the last of the paint Stiles begins to laugh. Aiden barely lifts his head up when he’s flung across the room into one of the shelves. His body hits it with such force that it buckles and folds in.

Ethan screams, and runs towards his brother but stops. He’s hurled backwards, his back slams into a pipe snapping the middle section. He groans and rolls over onto his side, breathing hard.

Stiles snaps the chains binding his legs, then shatters his arm restraints and kicks back the chair, which jars the altar causing the bowl to tumble onto the floor with a resounding clang.

He rolls his neck, cracking loudly as it moves through the revolution. When he stops his eyes have turned black again and his smile is twisted.

“Now let’s have some fun.”

Kali charges at Stiles. She cannons into him, throwing him to the ground. He lies on his back smiling widely, eyes trained on her. She growls low and then swipes at his head. He rolls out the way and her claws drag across the floor, scoring it deeply.

Quickly Stiles pushes himself to his feet, and brings up his arms just as Kali kicks him in the chest. Her other leg comes around from the side, slashing his arms. Blood gushes from the wounds, but he ignores them and punches her in the face.

Kali stumbles backwards; her head comes forward with a loud snap as her bones heal.

Ethan sits up and quietly grabs the broken section of piping, wrapping his fingers tightly around it. On the other side of the room Aiden crawls out from underneath the wreckage. He’s bruised but not bloody. Kali stares, hatred seeping from her red eyes and Stiles grins back. He glances over at the boys while they stand.

The wolves attack.

Kali pounces, leaping high into the air. Her foot comes out ready to strike but then she stops, suspended in mid-jump. Stiles chuckles.  Kali gasps and clutches her throat, fingers scrabbling uselessly.

The twins run for each other. Ethan falters, coughing hard and spits out blood into his hand. They both stop. Aiden’s face is hard; his body tense while he watches his brother choke.

Ethan retches; his body convulses and vomits up blood onto the floor, pooling around his feet.

A moan worms out of his mouth as he falls to his knees. Aiden runs to him and supports his body. Words tumble out his mouth, begging for help.

“You will stop this. Now.” Deucalion commands.

“Oh come on I’m not even using my hands.”

Kali’s movements become more frantic and her eyes pleading.  Ethan is wracked by each cough. He moves onto all fours, hacking and spluttering. Aiden pulls his brother close to him, but the coughing doesn’t ease. Tears stream down his face and he begins to scream.

“You’re killing him! Please, stop!”

Kali’s limbs fall limply to her sides and Ethan collapses in Aiden's arms, blood dripping from his lips.

Stiles tosses Kali’s body into a corner, “That was fun!”

Aiden wails, clutching his brother’s corpse.

“Stop fucking crying.” Stiles rolls his eyes.

He clicks his finger; a candle appears in his hand. Stiles stares longingly its flame, before gently blowing on it. Fire surges from the wick, enormous in size. Like a wave crashes on the twins. The scream barely leaves Aiden’s lips before they’re consumed and when it subsides there is nothing left but a pile of ash.

Deucalion stands but his face is contorted with rage. He lets out a growl that rumbles across the room.

“How dare you?!”

“I’m a demon!” Stiles yells back, “This is what we do.”

Deucalion takes a step forward, hand gripping his cane so tightly his knuckles are bone white.

“I summoned you.”  

“So what? You’d have let out any piss poor excuse for a demon if they jumped in the queue. I owe you jack shit.”

Deucalion tosses his glasses onto the floor. Two sets of inhuman eyes stare at each other, both gazes unflinching.

“You’ve murdered my family. I will make you pay for this.”

“Your family barely put up a fight.”

He smiles bitterly, “Tell me your name.”

Stiles smirks, “Abyzou. But you Deucalion, I’m certain you’ve heard of me.”

“You know me?”

“No, the kid does," he gestures to his head, "This meat suit I’m riding has a lot of information on you lot actually. Poor choice really, but we all make mistakes.”

“He may know enough about my pack, but what does he know about me?”

Abyzou chuckles, “You call yourself the “Demon Wolf” because you’re the strongest of your kind. Now that makes me laugh, Eve really fucked up with you. I mean a blind mutt is the strongest werewolf?”

Deucalion laughs, “Oh don’t worry I’ll show you exactly what this blind mutt can do.”

His body begins to snap, bones jutting out with loud cracks and pops. The clothes on his back instantly tear and burst their seams. His shoulders jerk and his arms swing growing longer and hanging past his knees. Legs elongate and grow haunches, while claws burst out of his shoes. His trousers fall apart revealing the fur underneath. Chest muscles ripple hard, widening and his back arches, settling down with a slight hunch.

He growls again, jaw reshaping itself into a more animal form. Eyes blood red and lifeless with grey pupils. The fangs inside his mouth are impossibly long and curved, like tiny swords ready to render bone and flesh.

Abyzou sneers, “Come on then.”

Deucalion closes the distance between them in two steps and lunges, maw snapping for her head. She leans backwards; raising her hands on either side. His mouth falls open, and a scream is torn from his throat. The sound of agony. Her face is contorted with a wild smile as his scream progresses into an inhuman howl.

“Shut the fuck up!”

His skull explodes.

Brain matter, bone fragments and blood splatter out in every direction. They coat Stiles’s face. Abyzou raises a hand, wipes away the lumpy liquid and exhales.

“That was messier than expected…”

She looks around, the blood trashed and corpse littered room. An unhappy sigh follows her as she walks over to the altar. Absent mindedly hefts the book, and holds it with both arms.

“I’m off my game. I’m a shit tonne more elegant when I’m murdering. It’s not my fault I was downstairs for Hell knows how long.”

Voices sound in the distance, frantic and followed by hurried feet. She freezes to listen.

“Is this it? Are you sure?” A boy’s. Young. Extremely familiar to the other consciousness, she can feel him writhe inside her skull, screaming out his name.

Scott.

“Positive, this is the only building inside the co-ordinates they gave us.” A girl’s, also young. Stiles knows her too. Dangerous; a werewolf hunter.

“We all know this is a trap, right?” Another young male voice.

“So what? They have _Stiles._ I’m not going to let him die.”

“Scott you need to calm down. You can’t help if you’re going to be worked up like this.”

 A dark smile slides onto her face at the sound of this voice. A man; an alpha.

“How can you tell me to calm down? They have my best friend in there!”

Fighting breaks out amongst the voices.

Abyzou chuckles and grabs the chair and places it back in the centre of the trap. As she sits, the group begin their onslaught on the door. It and shudders, and the bolt spasms. Soon the succession of banging grows manic.

“So these are your friends?” She stares up at the light and it blinks out.

“I can’t wait to meet them.”  

   

 


End file.
